


Overload

by Nation_Ustria



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Golden Power, Hurt/Comfort, Lloyd Garmadon Angst, Lloyd Garmadon Needs a Hug, One Shot, Overstimulation, Post The Final Battle, Sensory Overload, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29328090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nation_Ustria/pseuds/Nation_Ustria
Summary: Not too long after the Final Battle, Lloyd has the pleasure of discovering one of the side effects of being the wielder of the golden power: greatly heightened senses, so much so that he's completely overwhelmed. Garmadon does what he can to help.
Relationships: Lloyd Garmadon & Lord Garmadon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Overload

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing, so here's the thing. It's not the best thing I've ever written but it was fun to write.
> 
> Apologies for typos
> 
> Enjoy!

Breathe—

Breathebreathebreathe

—too bright, so bright—it _hurts_ —

Inhale. It’s loud, too loud—

What—what’s hap—

His clothes are rough, they hurt his skin—get away— _can’t_ —

Exhale, another inhale—still too _loud_ —

Make it go _away_.

Breathe.

Breathe.

There’s too _much_ —

 _“Lloyd?”_

_Loud_ —ow ow ow— _hurts_ —get away—

 _Too much_ —

Noises, and movement, too many—too much—he can’t—

 _What’s happening_ —

He can _feel_ things—lots of things. But—what— _why_ —

—ow ow ow ow—

Just _stop_.

Lots—many—bad bad bad—can’t escape—

Trapped— _get away_ —can’t—

Breathe.

Can’t.

— _touching_ —something’s _grabbing_ him, pressing the rough fabric into his skin—

— _stop it_ — _please_ —

Ow, ow, _ow_ —

He’s moving—movingmovingmoving— _stop it_ —

Be _quiet_ —

 _Bright._ Ow—hurts—

Roughness scraping his skin—cold—

Still.

Still, and then dark. And quiet.

Relief.

His breathing is still too loud. He tries to make it softer.

It hurts less.

Dizzy, but it’s far away.

Slowly, everything goes away.

*****

Lloyd wakes up slowly. It takes him longer than it should to actually realize that he _is_ awake—because he can’t see, and he can _sense_ other things that he can’t describe.

Lloyd shifts, trying to figure out where he is. His clothes are uncomfortable—the fabric is scratchier than he remembers. It sends pins and needles through him as it moves against his skin when he sits up, and he hisses—then flinches, as the noise is louder than he’d expected. The room that he’s in is dark, like, can’t-see-his-hand-an-inch-away-from-his-nose dark—either that or he’s gone blind. Somehow, Lloyd knows that it’s not the latter.

Lloyd can hear his own breathing, also louder than it should be—and he can hear someone else’s, too, off to his left. Common sense told Lloyd that he should be alarmed, but there’s something else coming from that direction, something—Lloyd can _sense_ it, somehow. It’s somewhere in between seeing and feeling, except he’s not using any of his normal senses to pick it up. What he’s sensing almost seems . . . _warm_ , somehow. Calm. Living. And also familiar in a way he can’t explain.

“Dad?” Lloyd asks. He flinches at his own voice—it’s _loud_ , painfully so.

“I’m here, son,” Dad says. The pitch of the words make it sound like he’s talking quietly, but the volume is close to normal.

Lloyd swallows. “What . . . what happened?” he asks, speaking as quietly as he can. “Why . . .” Why is he sitting in a pitch-black room? Why is everything so loud? Why can Lloyd _sense_ things, like whatever he’s feeling from Dad and the locations of the walls around him?

His head’s starting to spin—

“Breathe, son,” Dad says. 

Lloyd sucks in a breath, forcing himself to hold it for eight counts. He lets it out slowly, then starts following one of the breathing patterns Uncle Wu taught him. In, hold, out. In and out.

“Good,” Dad says softly. There’s sounds of movement, and Lloyd can sense Dad coming towards him. After a few moments Dad settles half a foot away.

“Are you alright?” Dad asks quietly.

Lloyd blinks, not that it does anything in the darkness. Alright? What’s ‘alright’ in this situation? As far as he can tell, his senses have been dialed up to eleven—including ones that he didn’t even know he _had_.

“What’s happening?” Lloyd asks. It comes out sounding a lot smaller than he meant it to.

“It’s part of being the Ultimate Spinjitzu Master,” Dad answers. “The golden power isn’t just power—it’s raw creation energy, sourced from the fabric of the world itself. Since you wield it, you’ve become much more connected to Ninjago. Heightened and additional senses are a part of that, allowing you to better perceive and understand the world around you.” Dad sighs. “Unfortunately, it’s quite the amount to process—currently, you’re severely overstimulated. That’s why I brought you in here; minimizing the amount of input is the only way to keep you from getting overwhelmed until you adjust.”

Lloyd processes that. It makes sense, in a way—but it doesn’t stop his mouth from going dry. “And . . . how long will that take? For me to adjust,” he asks quietly.

“A few days, at least. Possibly up to a few weeks before you’ve acclimated fully.” Dad’s clothes rustle as he shifts. “Thank goodness that your mother had the foresight to start preparing this room.”

“She knew this would happen?” Lloyd asks, frowning. Why didn’t she warn him? He’d already had the golden power for a week—it would have been nice to know that this would happen to him, on top of everything else.

“She knew it was a possibility,” Dad answers. “Because of the delayed manner of it actually coming into effect, she couldn’t be certain if it actually would happen or not. I think she refrained from telling you because she didn’t want to worry you in the event that it didn’t happen.”

Well, that definitely sounds like Mom. Lloyd sighs. At least she’d actually done something to help. 

Lloyd senses Dad move, reaching out towards him. His hand finds Lloyd’s shoulder and Lloyd flinches as the fabric scrapes against his skin.

“Sorry,” Dad murmurs. He follows Lloyd’s arm down to grip his hand. Lloyd can feel the swirls of his fingerprints as Dad gently squeezes. “It’ll be alright, son.”

Lloyd squeezes back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Kudos/comments make my day ❤️


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